A Taste of Home by Heidi Swain (the beginning after the end read novel TXT) 📕

Amber spotted me and beckoned me over and Jake went in search of another chair.

‘I’m with someone,’ I told him, when I realised what he was doing.

‘In that case,’ he smiled, ‘I’ll nab two.’

‘But we don’t want to intrude,’ I gabbled, ‘I just want a quick word with you all really.’

Jemma wafted my words away.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she said. ‘It’s a free for all in here tonight. There’s going to be some music later. Come and meet my other half.’

Once I’d been introduced to her husband Tom and then Lizzie’s partner, Ben, and Bec had got served at the bar, we all sat, sardine-like around the table.

‘This is delicious,’ I said, taking a sip of the very pink gin. ‘Thank you, Bec.’

‘It’s blackberry,’ she told me. ‘From the Brambles distillery on the far side of town.’

‘I didn’t know there was a distillery in town,’ I said, taking another flavoursome sip.

‘Oh yes,’ she said, ‘it’s a fairly new venture. You might want to think about asking them to come onboard with your plans.’

I knew that locally sourced drinks would be just as important as the food and I’d already factored the Skylark Farm cider into my ideas. Brambles gin would be a most welcome addition too and I wondered if there was perhaps a microbrewery producing beer somewhere about.

‘What plans are these?’ Jemma asked.

‘Oh sorry,’ Bec winced. ‘Me and my big mouth.’

‘No,’ I reassured her, ‘it’s fine.’

This was it. This was the moment I’d been hoping for, when I could float the idea to some of the people who had the potential to really help it take off.

‘My plans for a diversification project at Fenview,’ I said with as much confidence as I could muster. ‘It’s down to some of you that I’ve come up with it actually.’

I had everyone’s attention and they all listened intently as I explained how Jake had told me about his desire to do more with the Skylark Farm produce than simply sell it, along with Lizzie’s long-held wish for somewhere local and exciting to eat out in the evenings.

‘So,’ I recapped, having gone through it all in as much detail as I currently had, ‘Grandad and I plan to open up the barn to local businesses to serve their produce at exclusive supper club events which will run on at least a monthly basis, possibly fortnightly, depending on the season and the demand.’

Jemma nodded encouragingly and looked every bit as enthusiastic as she had when she told me of her desire to collaborate with the farm and buy our fruit.

‘I’m going to manage the club and the venue, and it will be up to the producers to come up with the menu. We’re also going to invite local chefs and cooks too,’ I added, ‘as long as they use locally grown and sourced ingredients.’

‘In that case, I’m in,’ said Jemma, without a moment’s hesitation.

I could have kissed her.

‘And what about Fenview Farm fruit?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Will you be having your own evenings where you serve up dishes made with that?’

‘Definitely,’ I said. ‘I have more than enough recipes and if I can pair the desserts with a wine merchant or distillery like the one that produced this delicious gin,’ I held up my glass, ‘then we’ll be in for an amazing evening.’

Just as I said the last word, I looked over at the bar and spotted Eliot. He’d already seen me but looked away when our eyes met.

‘That could be the perfect partnership,’ nudged Bec.

‘Yes,’ I stammered, hoping she hadn’t spotted the look that had passed between me and her brother and was referring instead to my desserts and Brambles distillery. ‘Exactly.’

‘I love it,’ said Lizzie, sounding every bit as excited as Jemma.

‘It sounds amazing,’ Amber agreed, looking at Jake who I then realised, hadn’t said a word. ‘Is it going to be possible to prep the food on-site?’

‘Eventually,’ I said. ‘But to begin with it will have to be prepared in advance. We need to make sure the idea has got legs before we invest in putting in kitchens and cloakrooms.’

‘I don’t think you’ll have a problem with planning permission,’ said Jemma’s husband, Tom, who worked for the local council.

‘And there’s going to be something else too,’ I mysteriously added. ‘Something really special and very unusual, but I’m not going to share the details of that just yet.’

Grandad’s fascinating Fenland collection was going to be the perfect extra element to embed that all-important sense of setting and place into the supper club evenings. I wanted everyone who came to the barn to know the captivating history of the area as well as the provenance of what they were eating and drinking.

‘Now I’m even more intrigued,’ said Jemma.

‘Good,’ I laughed. ‘That was my intention.’

‘And what about a name?’ chimed in Lizzie. ‘Are you going to call it the secret supper club?’

‘I’m not sure,’ I frowned. ‘At the moment that’s what’s stuck, and more by accident than design, but it might change.’

‘I like it,’ said Lizzie’s partner, Ben. ‘It sounds exclusive and I love that the menu will always be changing too.’

‘I’m so pleased,’ I smiled. I had wondered if that might be a sticking point, but everyone seemed to understand what it was I was hoping to achieve. ‘I want the ethos of the events to be seasonal, local and fresh. That’s really important, so some dishes might only be available for a very short while. Our currants for example,’ I said, doing my utmost to banish the image of a redcurrant popping on Eliot’s tongue, ‘are going to be ready next week.’

‘Oh goodie,’ said Jemma.

‘But might be over earlier than usual, which is down to the weather,’ I carried on, ‘and obviously other growers will be impacted by that too and therefore, the menus will reflect the current season and how it’s playing out.’

‘It sounds amazing, doesn’t it, Tom?’ Jemma asked her husband.

‘I think it sounds great,’ he nodded, ‘and I’m really pleased Bill’s found a better use for the barn.’

‘Than what?’ I asked.

Jemma